Tuesday Morning
by Spunky Lily
Summary: Post-Chosen-Slightly AU A woman arrives at the 'Slayer School' to drop a huge bombshell on Willow; she has a five-year-old daughter made from both she and Tara. Now, she must confront her feelings and raise the child as well.
1. A New Arrival

Disclaimer: Don't own _Buffy_. But I do own… Tuesday! Not the day, the girl silly! :) 

Note: Okies, this fanfiction has a slight AU because I love Anya and Amanda so. Therefore, they aren't dead.

~*~

"Do you love me, Auntie?"

A pair of sullen dark gray eyes lost in thought stared down the figure before her. They were unusually large, multifaceted and beautiful things, but cold and fatigued.

"Auntie?" the five-year-old repeated. "_Auntie Beth_?" she began to shake the still-laying woman vigorously, tears washing down in face in a constant torrent.

"She's gone, Tuesday. There's nothing for you here, sweetie." A voice from behind remarked coldly.

The little girl acknowledged her name by turning her head slightly. "Granpa?" she called through the dark alleyway, clinging to her mother's cousin, whom she called her aunt.

The stench of a deposited cigarette filtered through the rain, the only thing keeping the small flame to spread was that very fall of water, so it extinguished quickly in the darkness of the city of Los Angeles.

The tall man kneeled close to his granddaughter, cuddling her as she buried her face in his trench coat. "Aunt Beth is gone, Tuesday." He rephrased, but she obviously didn't want to hear it.

"She ain't gone!" Tuesday shrieked. "She didn't go… she didn't…" the girl lost the sentence in her constant sobs. A sudden, bright flash of light illuminated the scene, thunder thrumming gently in their ears.

Tuesday couldn't be the last.

First, Mr. Maclay lost his wife, then his daughter, and now his niece? And his granddaughter was the last. She couldn't be the last.

He ran his fingers through Tuesday's long, ash blonde tresses. _Just like Tara's. _Mr. Maclay reminded himself. _Just like Tara's._

~*~

"You have a caller, milady Willow." Kava, one of the Brazilian potentials announced in a rather whiny tone. Ever since she, Kennedy, Willow and the other Slayers had arrived in Wales alongside the remnants of the Scooby gang, Kava had been, well, kind of whiny. The group was housed in a large and long since abandoned home nestled in the Welsh countryside, although Buffy did miss Rome, she admitted it was rather suitable for the purpose. That being to train the potentials.

The 'original' potentials, with the exception of Kennedy, Amanda, and Vi had left the manor to train others in their homeland. That was working well, too, and was the recruiting and 'graduating'.

Approaching the door with a certain state of caution she'd always carried around with her, Willow allowed Kava to open it for her. She was sure they weren't vampires; especially considering the Slayer would've done some sort of spider-sense thingy and attacked with that trademark kick-ass perception and a quip to finish it off. Of course, one of the two was a kindergartener, and she'd never heard of a five-year-old vampire before, but then again…

The woman opposite of the little girl was obviously a watcher; she was clad in a crisp cream and dark brown business blouse, a long skirt the same color, and a pair of snippet little glasses. "Greetings, Miss Rosenberg." That sharp British accent singled her out, too. "My name is Jillian Red." She extended a hand out, but didn't seem surprised when no one took it. "And I've got quite a surprise for you. May we come in?"

Uh oh. Not another one. Surprises generally weren't good.

~*~

"Miss Rosenberg," Jillian began, stirring a spoon in her teacup as the little girl sat in the living room with a few of the younger slayers-in-training, along with Anya and Xander. Willow and Jillian had retreated to the kitchen, each curling their fingers around a cup. "This will come as a bit of a shock, but that girl in there"–she nodded to the now shrieking girl chasing around Xander and the Slayers-"she's very special. Tuesday is the daughter of Tara… and yourself."

Whoa… okay… that's a bit of information that failed to come to Willow.

The first thing she wanted to say was, "Tuesday?" but her throat constricted and she couldn't form that single word. Instead she managed to stammer, "H-how?"

Jillian released a long breath wanting to be a sigh. "This is going to be a very long day."   


	2. Treasure in the Trash

"H-how?" Willow repeated with the same uncertainty as her high-school self.

"Monks," Jillian said, as if that explained everything, sipping her tea like any other snippet watcher. "Monks… well, sort of. Although I haven't been entirely filled in on the subject, apparently a group of monks created Tuesday over there" –a crash and a choir of 'ow's sounded from the living room- "from you and a certain Miss Tara Maclay."

"Tara? _Tara_?" did she hear her right? Tuesday was Tara's and… _and_ her's. "You… how… why? Who asked for permission to make a child out of me?!"

"Monks generally don't ask permission to make a human being." Jillian answered dryly. "As was in Dawn's case. They have this whole predestined thing going on. Dawn was made for a purpose, and so was she. But Tuesday didn't come prepackaged with memories or extra years on her life. Tara was actually pregnant with her… the whole nine yards of the bloody girl."

"But she's five… that must mean…"

"Tuesday was created before you two even met." She finished lightly.

"Okay…but why should I even believe you? I mean, this girl you just dropped on my doorstep" –another crash- "could be anyone."

"And you're completely right. Why trust me? And the answer is because you have no other source to confirm it otherwise. You will be able to tell. First it will be little things; the way she can make pancakes like no other child on this earth, the books she'll fall completely head over heels for. Then it _will _grow, she'll sing, she'll have your eyes and Tara's hair, she'll have _your _phobia of frogs. In fact, she has all of the above, if care to notice. And, no Willow. I'm completely corporeal, thank you very much."

"But—"

"You're her mother, Miss Rosenberg. She needs a mother now. No more questions."

"Jillian—"

"Remember, Miss Rosenberg," Jillian rose up from her seat, out to the foyer to put her trench coat on as Willow followed intently. "One snowflake is all you need to start an avalanche." She hurried on to the door.

"Hey! You're just going to leave her and some wise-ass fortune cookie virtue here with me?" Willow was obviously nervous, as she only yelled under that circumstance or when she was angry.

Jillian smiled and said before she slammed the door, "Yes."

~*~Three Months Later~*~

"It's like this, Amanda. It's the face you were born with and I'm sorry for doing this but… Andrew… tell her something about _Star Wars _or something."

"Okay, for all of you not-so-dedicated fans, the movie doesn't end at _Return of the Jedi_. Actually, you know, Han Solo and Leia get hooked up and have twins; boy and girl, and another son, ironically named Anakin. And Luke? He does the big bang with—"

"Okay, Andy, I told you to say something to get her out of there, not bore her into a coma!"

The two men, okay, one man and another who desperately wished he was one, stood outside of the only bathroom in the entire manor. Sure, the place was huge, but it only had one, count 'em, one bathroom. Big disadvantage there.

"What are you guys doing?" Amanda asked, passing by through the hallway, one eyebrow raised.

"Wait—" Xander stopped pounding his fist in the door. "If you're not in there…"

The door was thrown open, a flash bounding down the hallway to the staircase.

"Well, at least that's over. And, no Andy boy, I'm first." Xander held his arm out to prevent Andrew from entering the bathroom, but he did so anyway. "_Andrew_!"

The door was slammed before another word was spoken. Amanda shrugged. "Tough luck, I guess." And headed down the stairs as well.

~*~

"This is the day, Mr. Andrew." He said to himself smugly in the mirror, unsheathing a sharp, tiny razor and shaking a can of shaving cream, spraying into his face. "Yummy."

Holding out the little object against his few proud strains of facial hair, he slid the razor down the thin mantle of fine hairs. "**OW**!" he shrieked at his first nick, dropping the cutting machine into the garbage can.

"Okay little dude, I'm going to be brave," he gulped, digging through the trash and finding his prize. _Wait a sec…_he thought, picking up another object; odd shaped and completely foreign to him. That was, until he read the label.

"Uncle Andrew? Eww…"


	3. Everything & Nothing Changes

Despite the fact that I'm *still* lingering on to the Tara/Willow & Oz/Willow relationships… and I'm not a really big fan of Kennedy… yes, they are going to be a couple. Although the story will focus on Willow's other relationships, too.

~*~

The small group always congregated in the kitchen in times like these. Times of peril, anguish, and most importantly, hunger.

"Pass the Lucky Charms, pwease."

"On it, little Red."

Faith smiled as she slid the leprechaun-clad cardboard box across the table to whom she had dubbed, 'Little Red'. It wasn't exactly an appropriate fitting to the girl's description, but she _was_ Willow's daughter after all, right? The girl was pretty quiet in relative terms, but Tuesday would caterwaul the occasional 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' at random request. Other than that, shrieking at the top of her lungs when playing 'Slayers and Bad Guys' were the only frequent noises she made.

The sound of the rustle of cereal falling into the bright green bowl pulsated in their ears, until the low rumble of feet racing to the breakfast table covered it up.

Currently, there were only three slayers-in-training housed here: the Brazilian preteen Kava, a feisty five-year-old South African named B'trli, and a Canadian teen named Megan. Along with Buffy, the Slayers, and the rest of the scoobies they flocked into the kitchen, cereal flying and the remaining peace and quiet in the room engulfed in noise.

Kennedy pulled up a chair next to Faith and Tuesday, ruffling Tuesday's already messy blonde locks. "Kenny! Stop it!" she giggled with delight, then stopped abruptly as an eerie silence filled the room.

_Buffy speech time. _Tuesday thought, knowing that Buffy was now the only one standing among the group, her arms folded and her eyes giving what her mommy called, 'the classic Slayer death glare'.

"Tuesday, Kava, B'trli, out. Now." Buffy commanded softly, with much less authority than if she was yelling at… say… Dawn.

"Aw, c'mon," Kava whined. "Why can't _we_ stay?"

"Because this is a speech about gross stuff… _boy _stuff." She convinced them.

"Eww…" the girls choired together, wrinkling their noses.

"Vi, watch them, I'll tell you later." Buffy added.

"On it, your Buffiness." Vi flashed a grin, following the little girls in the foyer and giving a salute.

Buffy gave a strange, awkward glance to the foyer, then shut the kitchen door abruptly.

"What's going on? A demon? An apocalypse? A new microwave?" Willow spoke before Buffy could even say a word.

"No, two things actually," she began, sighing. "First of all, this place is kinda… well… falling apart."

"It was before we got here." Faith mused.

"Yeah… Wales _is _nice, but… it's not a hellmouth. We go patrolling, we find graveyards, and it's lucky if we find a single vampire every nine days. We need more material to work with.

"In Cleveland, Ohio, there indeed is a hellmouth. And there's a really nice manor right in the middle of it. The previous owners died rather suddenly and… well; let's say that we have a werewolf friend in high places. In boring conclusion, we have nice place that's much bigger, much better, and on a hellmouth-y local. Sound good?"

"We're leaving?" Kennedy said with sarcastic disappointment.

Buffy nodded in reply. "Tomorrow, the new Watcher's Council is getting us teleported there. All of us. We've gotta pack our bags really quickly… I know this is really sudden… but you all know the circumstances. Oh, and one more thing… a nerdy source that will remain anonymous—" everyone glared at Andrew "has discovered that one of the girls in this room has a little secret to share with us… you know who you are… speak up."

"God, Buffy, d'ya _have_ to ruin the surprise?"

~*~

Now you guys know why I'm le queen of cliffhangers *le gasp*


	4. Witch Trials

*giggles with complete delight* Oh… my… God :) I'm _so _happy with the nomination *hugs Barefoot awards peoples* I love you guys! *awkward pause* Okay, anyways, I'm really happy that I've gotten some new readers, and don't forget, more reviews, more chapters…

Okay, I'm taking another time jump… *an unseen crowd groans loudly*… but don't worry, this will be the last _major_ time jump for the next couple of chapters. It's Tuesday's first day at 1st Grade, and although she's proven herself to be extremely intelligent, can she face the older kids? Of course! She's a Rosenberg, remember? ;) 

~*~9½ Months Later~*~ 

"M-Mommy…" Tuesday whimpered, cowering as she entered the rather colorful room, adorned with finger paintings of suns, royal blue blobs of sky, and smiling faces. "I'm s-scared." She stated honestly, gripping Willow's arm, convincing her mother that she wouldn't be letting go anytime soon. Children were seated at their tables, making little contraptions out of glue and Popsicle sticks that looked eerily similar to a demon the witch had recently faced. But this, for Tuesday at least, was far worse than any monster.

"It's hard letting them go again, isn't it Miss Rosenberg?" the teacher smiled a toothpaste commercial smile, that didn't seem to help brighten up the situation at all. "From what I've heard, you're daughter is quite intelligent, true?"

Willow nodded, "It's kind of genetic," she explained. "I was kind of the computer nerd in my high school."

"_Mommy_…" Tuesday insisted, tugging at the sweater Willow was wearing. "I gotta go to the bathroom," she said quickly. "_Bad_." She emphasized.

"It's over there, sweetie." The teacher said sincerely, pointing to a golden yellow door on their right. Tuesday nodded in acknowledgment, with a quick, "T-thank you." And scurried off. 

Willow prepared her voice an octave quieter, "She's a bit shy… I mean, she is very eager. Tuesday always talks with—" She gave an uncomfortable pause. "Her cousins… but they're only a few weeks old… and her aunts and uncles… but, she doesn't really feel safe around anything… anyone," she corrected herself. "Else."

"It's _okay_," she made an effort to make her feel better, but it obviously wasn't working… and obviously wasn't needed. "I understand."

'No, you don't…' Willow thought instantly, not having the nerve to say it aloud.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I never formally introduced myself, silly me! I'm Sheila, Sheila Weatere." Her mother's name, Willow realized… Ms. Weatere held out her hand, and Willow reluctantly shook it.

~*~

"Okay, children, now it's recess time!" Ms. Weatere announced, and choir of cheers filled the room as the thirteen students filed quickly out of the cramped 1st Grade room out onto the playground.

As the scampered off, a rather large boy interrogated the frightened, sullen newcomer.

"So, you're Tuesday. That's a pretty… stupid name."

"I think it's a cool name." His friend interjected.

"Said the boy named… Tha… Thadilloinious…"

"It's Tad."

"Shut up… so you think you're pretty cool, huh?"

"No…" Tuesday whispered.

"Well, little _girly_." The large boy crooned, then grabbed hold of one Tuesday's pigtails.

"Let go of me!" she cried. "O-or I'll…"

"What? You can't do anything!" As he said those words, light poured from the girl's hands, pushing him away onto the ground.

"Oh… my God…" Ms. Weatere murmured, coming to their aid. "You," she added accusingly. "Come with me."

~*~

"Miss Rosenberg, your daughter is without a doubt the most unruly creature I've ever met. She injured my poor, innocent—" Willow rolled her eyes. "Jeremy. Your child is a monster."

'Witch is more like it.' Willow added mentally. "You saw what happened, Sheila. It was rather odd, you admit. Maybe it wasn't her. And besides, your _son _was pulling my daughter's pigtails and calling her stupid."

"How would you know?"

She had her there. "Let's just say I know a few of these kids as witnesses." She improvised for the sake of that horrid woman's sanity.

~*~

"Shayla, Asher, you two are so lucky that you don't have to go to that school for another five years."

Tuesday leaned against the crib slightly, observing the twins' simple reactions of creating spit bubbles. The two were little surprise packages for their parents, Xander and Anya. They were rather cute, only two weeks old and already showing signs of anti-normalcy; the female, whose full name was Halfrek Shayla Harris, was sprouting what appear to be a pair of small horns. Which, as Anya had explained, was completely normal for a young half-demon. Xander and Anya had decided to go with the name Halfrek, since it was the name of one of their dear and late vengeance demon friends. It was kind of a strange mouthful, so she was called by her middle name instead. She was slightly larger than her twin and had a messy smattering of dark hair and warm brown eyes.

Since the male didn't look like much of a Jenny, his name was Asher Taylor Harris. He had no indication of horns, unlike his sister, and had a blonde mantle of hair on his scalp. But they did share the same au natural eyes- the same to the last speckle of light brown.

Tuesday loved 'the twins'. They were cool, they listened to her (although they didn't exactly have a choice), and even though they were very yucky with the expulsion of wastes, they were cute.

"You see, maybe not all teachers are evil… but Ms. Weatere is, I'm sure… and Jeremy…" Asher burped loudly, and she paused, giving a very melodramatic sigh. "Well, you're probably right, Ash. They aren't demon evil, no offense to either of you two infants." She finished with a degree of importance in her voice.

Shayla lifted her tiny little arms up.

"Now, Halfrek…" Tuesday scolded. "Don't you raise your voice to me, young lady. It isn't polite."     


	5. It Comes From Here

Okay, sorry to anybody reading this who's also reading 'From Phoenix's Ashes'… I have a total case of writer's block on that story. It sucks.

In the meantime, I might be starting _two more _Buffy fanfics and maybe even an Angel one… all are kidfics, well… the Angel one's kind of a dark kidfic, it's about the whole Fred/Illyria/Wesley situation… and the Buffy ones? One's an AU Willow/Oz preggers…  the other is a story based on 'Jersey Girl'.

Okay, I'm done :) I was feeling particularly inspired, so I wrote some more ^-^

~*~

"Tuesday?" Willow entered the nursery, where daughter stood on a stool to watch her 'cousins'. "Baby, we need to talk…"

"I-it was my fault, I hurt that kid… I did it with my eyes… I-I—" she managed to stammer as she began to sob, now in a fetal position on the chair, rocking herself gently.

"I understand… you are very special, you know that?"

She lifted puffy, red eyes, nodding.

"You're different from the other kids at school, but you're not like aunt Buffy or Amanda or Kennedy… you're like me." Willow tried to explain in a way her child could understand.

There was a long, quiet pause, and then Tuesday finally confessed:

"M-Mom… the kids at school… a-a-after Jeremy got hurt, he said I'd never be loved… because I don't have a daddy."

"Oh, Tuesday, you know that just isn't true. You've got a great big family that loves you and cares about you."

"But I don't _have _a f-family… I don't have a dad." She protested.

"Your family doesn't have to be your brother or sister or dad or mom… it's the people who care about you." Willow kneeled to her daughter's eye level, running her fingers through Tuesday's hair.

"So, uncle Xander is my daddy?" she asked, wiping away a tear.

"Not exactly." She gave a smile in return. There was another long pause, and Willow began to speak again. "You have a gift, I have a gift. It's very special and can be very dangerous… so, try not to use it at school."

"It's hard, my power is controlled by my eyes… and bein' angry and stuff." She pointed to the pair of deep grays.

Willow gently caught her hand and moved it to the placed over her heart. "No…" she smiled. "It comes from here."

~*~

"D-don't I look… ravishing, Dawn?" Tuesday squealed in delight, walking up to her 'aunt', sporting a silk pale blue Victorian dress that dragged about three feet behind the little child. She had obviously dug for some bold red lipstick, which contrasted greatly with her pale skin. In Dawn's eye, Tuesday looked exactly like a porcelain doll, complete with the artificial curls and matching hat.

Dawn could hardly contain her laughter as she wiped some of the lipstick that definitely wasn't on her lips. "Of course, milady." She addressed politely, with a wicked grin spread across her face. Despite the fact that Tuesday was obviously very smart, skipping a grade and everything, and a witch, but that didn't mean she couldn't play dress up, didn't it?

"She looks very… odd." Anya observed, sitting cross-legged with Shayla in her arms and Xander not even one foot away with Asher. He flailed his arms and wiggled with what looked like his best attempt at a smile.

"Not so fast, Ash," Xander smirked. "I'm sure they'll dress you up as much as you like when you're older. Princesses and fairies and everything." He promised with a slight chuckle.

Tuesday peered to the stained glass window of the attic, getting on her tippy-toes to watch the event of the outside world. The manor was nestled in a suburban region of Cleveland, the sign near the driveway's curb reading, 'Summers' School For the Gifted' and under it, 'If we don't save the world, nothing matters.'

But Tuesday noticed something other than the normal environment she'd grown used to. An old van was parked on the side of the road, a young man emerging from the driver's side of the vehicle. He was of average height and build and had red hair. "Uncle Xander!" Tuesday called. "Who's that!" she pointed to the man and one word came in reply:

"Oz."

~*~

That _was_ rather short, but… we need the suspense!  


	6. Bite Me

It's… gidgetgirl… *points and faints* Anyway, much appreciated for the constructive criticism… Tuesday's character is kind of all over the place, but I'm *trying* to keep her a shy, quiet girl around unfamiliar people and environments, and completely giggly and girly and spontaneous when she's around her close family and friends… while still keeping kind of shy.

Anyway, in this chapter: Oz, a pair of vampire lovers, and one weird introduction. 

~*~

Near Cairo, Egypt 

"My love, what is it that bothers you so? You are free and, for Ra's sake, you needn't be troubled."

The woman moved majestically across the balcony, her simple black gown sweeping across the marble floor of the place, stopping abruptly at the sight of the man, his body not responding to her presence for a while. Her heartless dark eyes, midnight black in their color, had no light reflected in their depths, though it was moonrise in the Egyptian desert.

"Love?"

Her willowy fingers grasped the man's shoulder momentarily, his head turning slightly as he smirked. "Isis," he said coolly with a trace of an accent. "You made me lose my prey." He added playfully, both of his partner's arms wrapped around his bare, tanned, muscular torso.

"Catching little humans with your mind again?" Isis mused. "Erestdae, we've better things to do."

The pair seemed to be complete opposites in appearance; Isis was pallid, blonde, British, and garbed in what seemed to be a noblewoman's dress. In fact, she greatly resembled a Porcelain doll. The male was tanned, black haired, Egyptian, and wore only a pair of baggy khakis.

"The witch is young, and so is the night, my sweet black rose." Erestdae replied smoothly, his heartless eyes mirrored the color of Isis's.

There was a beautiful, sullen silence as they watched the sand whip across the desolate ambience, but the vampiress was the first to shatter it.

"The thing growing inside of me…"

"It _was_ growing inside of you, Fiona; it is stalled, and will never birth until the day you die… or—" Erestdae shuddered at the thought. "You turn… _human_." He spat the word as if it were poison.

"Don't call me by my mortal name; Fiona is weak, Isis is strong, my lord."

"If you wish it be, Isis."

~*~

RING.

The doorbell buzzed annoyingly, Willow abandoning her coffee and quiet environment to greet whoever… or whatever… was standing at the door. She threw open the door before even looking outside 

"Sorry, Willow… this don't look much like Istanbul, does it?" Oz smiled a bit.

"And you don't have blue hair." Willow returned a sly grin.

Oz leaned in for a lengthy embrace, "Can I come in?"

"Sure… you changed," she observed, although in physical appearance, he hadn't changed a bit.

"So have you…"

Almost on cue, a thud came from the doorway to the foyer. Tuesday and, surprisingly enough, Xander came crashing down on the floor, 'owwie's murmured, and Willow's childish giggles bursting out. Through her little giggle fit, she helped the eavesdroppers up. Kneeling down to Tuesday's eye level, she whispered, "There's someone I'd like you to meet…"

She proceeded to stand, Tuesday gripped her hand tight, giving the distinct impression she might break Willow's fingers. As the pair stood in front of Oz, Tuesday scurried behind her mother's leg, clinging to it.

"C'mon Tue… he doesn't bite…" Willow urged her off of her calve. She met Oz's gaze and said in a voice that was barely audible, "Do you?"

 ~*~

I must say, I'm really proud of that last line :) Way to toot my own horn, huh?

Anyway, next chapter: Kennedy, Oz, and Willow argue, Tuesday makes them shut up, Shayla says her first word (it's a highly predictable first word, but hey), and we have a special guest star from Angel Investigations…


	7. Past Tense

Okay… here's an extra-long chapter…

And other thing, I'm sorry if the Oz/Kennedy 'glare fight' seems kind of spontaneous…

~*~

Sunnydale, California

1984

The dawn was cold and gray, the stark shadows of the mist slowly rising from the dying yellow grass. One figure still lingered among the ghostlike headstones, her long hair, the color of old gold and the black mourning garb the only things visible from a distance. She kneeled near the red granite headstone, finally sobbing through her veil. Her fiancé's funeral had ended hours ago, but she, of all the friends and family had remained there for at least twelve hours, not an ounce of comfort lingering on her soul.

She had a perfect life: Tobias, her 'God of fiancés, a wonderful job, and a baby on the way. All that was shattered in a single phone call nearly a week before. Tobias had been hit head-on by a drunk driver, the unidentified man fleeing the scene unscathed. Now, she knew she couldn't do this anymore. Not the child. Not anything. It wasn't worth it anymore. Tobias was everything to her, and now he was gone. Forever.

Another figure cleared through the mist, one she had recognized. He had visited her many, many times previous to this, offering what she could now not deny she wanted. Immortality. A new, wild, reckless life. She wanted it.

The vampire Erestdae was indeed powerful. Able to take the forms of those he had killed and of his own original one, and to add to that, he was completely oblivious to the sun's affect on 'normal' vampires. She was slightly surprised to see him here, knowing the local coven had locked him up inside the hellmouth under Sunnydale.

"Now or never, love. Your decision. I haven't gotten much time, Fiona, that Maclay witch… she's comin'… and it'll be the hellstorm of the century for me."

She accepted the offer, and several hours later, she'd become what she was born to be.

"You are no longer a human. You are a child of darkness now," Erestdae whispered. "You are my Isis," he chided, a frown curving on his lips as the pair exited the graveyard.

"Taking in a new fledgling, Erestdae?" the medium sized woman snapped, stake in hand. In the case of this coven of witches, witch could almost be used as a synonym for _Erestdae hunter/killer_.

"Why yes, and I see you have a little bit." He observed a small girl in her late toddler years a few feet behind.

"Tara!" the woman shrieked. "I thought I told you… sweetie…"

"She's the Witch, isn't she, Skylar?"

"No."

Erestdae mumbled a curse, digging through her mind to retrieve the information he needed. Damn it. She was telling the truth.

"Guess I'll have to wait 'til little bit has a little bit of her own, eh?"

Kennedy… _Kennedy! _God, wake _up _Kennedy…

~*~

_Wow… that was a weird dream. _The first thought mingled in Kennedy's mind. It was so vivid… so real… but…

"Kennedy! It's noon and you haven't woken up!" B'trli whined, shaking Kennedy vigorously.

"It's also Saturday." She mused.

"You're a big person. Big people wake up _early_," came B'trli's wise Kindergarten logic, using her Slayer powers to physically lift Kennedy out of bed. "C'mon, Kenny."

"Okay, okay… you win." She replied, still half-asleep as she rolled out of B'trli's arms. "Yes, I'm a natural blue…"

"Huh?" the very confused Slayer-in-training asked.

"Please don't tell me you haven't seen _Finding Nemo_!" Kennedy teased, now fully awake and skipping down the stairs, B'trli at her heels. She simply shook her head as Kennedy widened her eyes in sarcastic shock. Soon, though, a real look of shock painted itself on her features as she entered the kitchen.

~*~

Much to Anya's, and obviously the twins', dismay, Xander had suggested that they leave Oz and Willow alone for a while. So, off to adventures in grocery shopping and patroning to the (and Anya hated to admit it) failing economy. Currently in the dairy section, the Harris-Jenkins's were stalled in mid-hallway.

A red kerchief, tied in such a way that it gave her look a very Jack Sparrow esque, covered Shayla's dark hair— and sprouting horns – henceforth giving her the nickname 'Pirate'. The horns made Xander get kind of worried; for one thing, how the hell did they get there? Anya wasn't a vengeance demon as far as he knew…

And they couldn't keep hiding the little things forever. Schools have dress codes banning hats… so… how exactly could they explain _that_.

"Hey! Harris, that you?"

A rather tall and muscular man approached Xander, patting him on the back. "Remember? 'I'm gonna kick the crap out of you after school'?"

Oh yeah. Aaron Williamson. The linebacker for the football team that hung his entire contents of his whitey-tighty drawer. Good times, good times. Note the sarcasm.

"So you married the weird chick, huh? Cute little Harris kids." Aaron observed, eyeing Anya.

"Actually," Anya began. "We're not married. Our children are bastards." She grinned, returning to her observation of how the sliding door to the milk works.

"Uh… long story. Let's just say the first wedding… didn't work. It was bad. Really bad."

With a slight look of shock on his face, Aaron departed. "What'd you say that for?" asked Xander.

"Well, it's the truth. We weren't married at the time they were born… and according to you three weeks ago; we _are_ eventually going to do your horrendous mortal wedding ceremony.

"BOO!" Shayla shrieked happily, her twin brother remaining silent and sleepy. "NEE!" she added, gurgling.

"Where?!"

~*~

"Who the hell's this?" Kennedy inquired, motioning to Oz. Not a happy expression on her face, either.

"Oz." He answered as with a vague hint in his voice that he would use if was lying. Which was rare. His eyes narrowed as he studied her for a few seconds, then rose from his seat and took in a whiff of air. "And you're Kennedy. Pleasure."

"The pleasure's all mine," she returned with some bits of sarcasm in her voice. "_Willow_?"

"This is Oz," she re-introduced, and feeling that despite the fact they'd just met, they didn't really enjoy each other's company. "The werewolf guy I used to date." The situation grew a little uneasier by the second.

A small, beautiful voice sounded from the living room. Someone singing:

"I lived my life in shadow

Never the sun on my face 

It didn't seem so sad though

I figured that was my place…"

That was Tara's song. That was Tuesday singing it…

"Now I'm bathed in light

 Something just isn't right…" Tuesday stopped singing abruptly, probably realizing that they were listening in the other room. The argument continued, but it was obviously silent, glares filling the kitchen.

Tuesday stood in the doorway, unoblivious to what was going on. _I wish they would stop it…_

"Did you hear something?"


	8. Saphira

Disclaimer: Tuesday, Ms. Weatere, Shayla, Asher, B'trli, and now *drumroll* … Saphira!

In this chapter: Tuesday's powers (and kitty), Erestdae and Isis meet a *certain* vampire, and last (but not least) Willow *might* get a job :)

Thought speak in 

~*~*~

"_Dawn_!" a shriek echoed eerily throughout the corridors of the ancient Victorian manor. The owner of the voice gazed to the doorframe of the largest bedroom, then back in its original spot, Tuesday's petite bed. A ball of midnight black fur curled up on the sheet next to Tuesday, both peacefully snoozing. Dawn appeared with a tumble of feet and her hair seeming to be half-braided, half-loose. Buffy had probably interrupted Dawn's morning ritual of preparing herself for yet another day at Cleveland High School she hadn't been really looking forward to. "Dawn, please tell me you didn't get a little kitty off of the street and you brought it _here_. Specifically, you framed innocent little Tue, here."

"I didn't get a little kitty off of the street and you brought it _here_. Specifically, I _didn't_frame innocent little Tue." She retorted, denying the accusation. The little black kitten uncurled itself, yawning and stretching, as did Tuesday in nearly simultaneous motions.

Uh oh, kitty.Tuesday said mentally.

Large human creature, what is upsetting you? Came a beautiful, wispy voice into Tuesday's mind.

Aunt Buffy and Dawn can see you. Why can't anyone else? And you never mentioned your name. Is it pretty?She asked, smiling at the last question.

I am a familiar. I was sent to help you, large human creature. The larger humans see me because they are a part of the Plan…

There was a long, awkward pause between the four.

I am Saphira, she greeted majestically, which caused Dawn to giggle. Apparently, Saphira could control if it was a private thought-conversation.  What is funny, human? What is so funny, that it causes you to utter those horrible sounds?

"Um, you just speak so… strangely. It sounds funny." Dawn answered.

Tuesday, I do not understand her. What is she saying? Saphira asked, cocking her little kitty head to the side.

Um… she thinks you speak funny…

I was taught to speak, it is not the correct way? she looked kind of shocked, as far as cats could express.

No, no it's fine. Just kind of… Tuesday thought about it for a moment, recalling all of those words she'd read about in the dictionary. Literate. she finished, scooping up the little black cat.

"Why can't she understand me?" Dawn asked Tuesday. She shrugged:

"Maybe it's because you aren't telepathic."

~*~*~

"She's gone…" B'trli sobbed, pounding her fist into the table, creating a hand-sized hole in it.

Buffy skipped down the stairs, opening her mouth to scold B'trli for ruining the furniture (it wasn't as if it wouldn't be ruined again) and immediately took a softer approach and sat next to the small, African-American girl. "Who's gone?" she asked, stroking her hair.

"Kennedy. The stupid selfish bit—"

"B'trli…" Buffy warned, interrupting her. She could understand why the little six-year-old was angry. Kennedy and the girl were practically Siamese twins, Kennedy always being a sort of Watcher to B'trli, going patrolling together… well, doing a lot of things together…

Buffy's thoughts then immediately came to Willow. Oh. My. God. What was Willow going to do?

Speak of the witch.

Willow, completely oblivious, ambled down the stairs with a smile.

RING.

"Hello, this is Will— oh," her smile faded. "Um, yes, I have taught before. Okay. I'll be right there." She set the receiver down. "Tuesday's teacher… and all of the others, including the substitutes they have on call… they were all murdered last night…"

"Whoa, so I'm assuming they called you?" Buffy asked.

"Uh-huh. Where's Kennedy?"

"Um… Will…"

"Cut the crap, Summers. She left us. All of us." B'trli stated, not really caring about Willow's feelings at the moment.

The redhead's pupils dilated, and she felt her fingers go numb. Don't faint, Willow. **DON'T **faint! "Oh… oh… oh my God…" she slumped into the chair, staring at the floor.

Willow let her muscles loosen, and she quickly drifted into unconsciousness.

~*~*~

"You stupid git! What the 'ell are ye doin' 'ere?" the overweight demon asked outside one of the many vampiric taverns set up around Cleveland. "An' why the 'ell ain't ye burning?"

"Just let me in, Karlosdos." Erestdae urged, licking off some of the blood from his lips.

"You'll be mur'er'd, stupid ass. I know a'many a'demon an' a'many a'vampire who'd love t'see ye gutted."

"Karlosdos," he warned. "I need a place to me, m'love and me do, and I don't care about the consequences."

A wicked grin spread across the demon's twisted features. "She's a mortal, eh? Turn'd a'mortal, eh? Drank t'much blood? Well, yer line tend t'have them side effects." He paused. "Isis is a'pregnant, no?"

Erestdae locked his fingers around the neck of the creature, killing him instantly. "Let's go Isis." He said, taking the girl's hand with his bloody one, and heading inside. But as soon as he stepped in, he saw someone he hadn't been in the longest time. And thank God, too.

"Spike?"


	9. Happy NotSo Birthday

Okay, I'm doing another time jump… into the future… yeah. 'Cause I couldn't think of anything else… :P

Don't despair, though, it's only a couple of months… so yeah…

Sacramento, California

1999

Beep… beep… beep…

The electrocardiogram managed to belt out a few squealing beeps, signaling that Skye 

Maclay was still among the living, but from what the doctors told her family, that wouldn't last.

A woman garbed in a pink nurse's uniform entered the plain ICU room, the shock of silence surprising her as she entered. It was a differing environment from the hustling hospital staff. She tried a warm smile for the teenager sitting in a chair next to the comatose Skye's bed, tears staining her warm, pretty cheeks.

"Oh, Tara, you're here," the nurse said warmly, Tara almost saying bitterly, _No, I'm a figment of your imagination._ "I didn't anticipate for you to still be here." Her voice was thick with a British accent.

"I'm glad you didn't get hurt any worse in that accident," she added. 

_Any worse than my heart being ripped in half? _"Th—Thank you, Ms. Red."

"Call me Jillian, please." She persisted. "And how's Donny and your father, I didn't hear anything yet about them."

_They almost died. How do you _think _they're doing?_ "The doctors don't know." Tara put a hand over her prodding stomach and sighed.

"Miss Maclay, I know what it's like… you haven't any idea—"

"T—That's what everyone's saying," she started to sob. "I—I can't do this without my mom…"

Tuesday awoke with a start, panting… it hurt… so… much…

"So is Oz my daddy, _now_?"

"Wha—no!"

Those were the first words to escape from Willow Rosenberg's mouth that warm Saturday morning. Thunder rumbled in the once still, humid air, creating a disturbance, much like a shock wave. Windows rattled in their panes—Xander had yet to fix them—bringing Willow into the sudden brightness of the conscious world. She had fallen asleep at the local desk, were she was working on some random paper, which didn't appear to stop Tuesday from nudging her to get up. That was just nothing compared to her nightmares that visited her often. It was the same thing, over and over; two vampires and a pale, pretty little black-haired girl. They were dressed all funny, too. That nightmare last night was the first different one in weeks…

"Mom? D'you know what today is?" a grin broke onto the little girl's face. "My birthday!" she shrieked with glee.

How could Willow have forgotten? Since no one really knew Tuesday's birthdate, the Scoobies just made the day October 13th, also known as the day, exactly one year ago, when Tuesday first arrived on the doorstep of the rundown shack like manor in Wales.

Willow yawned, stretching a bit as she skipped down the stairs in a trancelike state. Conversation already came from the kitchen:

"'Every dog has his day'. Amanda, I think I got yours." Andrew teased.

"Well, then must have gotten yours," she visibly lifted up a fortune cookie and the prediction therein. "'One day you will meet a handsome man and fall in love with him'!"

"Hey! By the way, what exactly _does _RSVP mean?" he inquired; now grasping an obvious invitation card.

"Refreshments Served at Vi's Party?" Amanda suggested.

Andrew rose from his seat. "Tofu sausages?"

"I respect that you don't eat meat... please respect that I don't eat fake meat." She stared out into the window. "This is pretty weird. Most of the time, it just… snows… around this time of the year."

There was an abrupt knock at the door, but whoever was at it refused to wait. The door swung open, a red-haired, middle-aged woman standing there.

"M—Mom?" Willow managed to stammer.

Sheila Rosenberg looked a little worn and studied her daughter for a moment, then flung her arms around Willow. "Oh, God, it's you… you don't know how worried your father and I have been since that sinkhole in Sunnydale… we thought you might've been… you could've been killed!"

"Uh…" was all Willow could reply. Andrew and Amanda looked at each other, giving a mental shrug.

"And Willow, I haven't seen you for what? A year and a half? What have you been doing? Where _have_ you been?"

"Umm… Mom…"

"And look at this!" Sheila kneeled to Tuesday's eye level and smiled wearily. "Who is she?"

"Mom… this is Tuesday… she's my… she's my daughter…"

"Now, I'm gonna ask one more time," Erestdae stated to the woman strapped to the wall. "Where does the Witch live?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" the Latino twenty-something spat.

"Yes you **DO**!!!" he yelled, lashing out another skin-piercing strike of his whip. "At least tell me your pretty little name." He commanded, smirking at the sight of the girl's grimace.

"Kennedy…"

"So…" Sheila began, seated on the couch. "Tuesday… she's that girl… Tara—" Willow nodded. "That's her daughter. And you've taken her in? And you're back with that boy… the musician."

"Yeah… yeah, that about sums it up. So, are you going to stay for a while?"

"I can set up the pull-out couch downstairs, Mrs. Rosenberg." Amanda chimed in helpfully.

"No," she replied. "I've better get going. I've overstayed what I was expecting. But Willow, dear, keep in touch, will you?"

"'Course, Mom." She smiled, giving her a goodbye embrace. Sheila reluctantly went out the door, then pulled out into the street in a shiny orange car.

"She doesn't know, does she? About who we really are?" Amanda asked, her voice distant.

"Well… the only two adults who ever really knew about what was going on were Joyce, Buffy's mom, and Giles… but they're both…"

"I know." She interjected softly.

Next chapter: Nina and Angel; Isis and Spike's arrival at the manor; the scoobies' new threat; and a little surprise (in a family way)


End file.
